In my last blog entry, I talked about how you should put yourself in to a character’s position and let your imagination flow. What’s important to understand is that if your mind isn’t ready to ‘flow’, the worst thing you can do is try to force it. The number of times I’ve set aside time to write and sat there trying to force ideas. Sometimes I just had those ‘blank’ moments and at other times when I did write, it turned out to be terrible and when I read back over it later, I ended up deleting it.
How many of you have been doing something else and then your mind goes off in a different direction and you almost daydream a different scenario. I would sometimes be sitting on a plane with all the noise around me, the cabin crew throwing bags of peanuts across to you with the expression of serving a gourmet meal (and speaking of that, I was on one plane travelling from the US to the UK and the cabin crew coming down the aisle towards you serving passengers stating the choices were beef, chicken, or pasta. You find yourself willing them to walk faster and you feel like a little kid waiting for Santa to arrive. As the cabin crew got closer to me, I could hear them offering the selections and, in my mind, I had already decided what I wanted which was chicken. As each passenger who asked for chicken in front of me, I would silently throw curses at them, then, finally, the question was directed at me. Hello sir, would you like beef, chicken, or pasta? Chicken I replied, already subconsciously licking my lips in anticipation. My heart fell when I was told, I’m sorry sir, but we’re out of chicken. In my mind I heard myself screaming, well, why bother to off it then, but then I calmed myself down and replied, no problem, I’ll take the beef. In a scene straight out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie, the reply slapped my in the face. I’m sorry sir, but we’re out of beef. Trying to keep my emotions in check, I muttered, fine, I’ll take the pasta and the disappointing tray would be slipped in front of me as they moved past and onto the next row. Then, to my amazement, every few seconds I would hear those words, Hello, would you like beef, chicken, or pasta!
Sorry, let me get back to my point. Think of the times that you’ve been doing something, but your mind is running a different story. If you’re writing a book, very often your mind will play out a possible story when you least expect it so always be prepared for those moments because that’s when your mind is ready to write. I used to wake up at night thinking of the next scenes of my book and the worst thing I could do was to ignore it. All the time, part of your mind is working on the storyline so allow it to flow. But remember, if you’re not in the mood to write, don’t try to push it as that’s when you lose quality.
I also said in my last post that I was going to look at parts of my book and try to explain my thought process and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Please bear in mind that all writers have different ways of thinking their stories. I like to think of myself writing a story in a Caribbean beach hut, but then again, I would probably just enjoy the sights and sounds and not be in the mood to write! Anyway, let me talk about how I write and hopefully it will help you along your writing journey.
The most difficult part of writing a book is how to start and introduce the characters. When you watch movies, it’s seldom that the main character appears right at the start. It normally begins with setting the scene to ease you into the story. For Nature’s Marc I knew the type of character I wanted but wanted to bring him in slowly so that you got to know his character the more you read. I also knew that it’s essential to get the readers attention to stop them putting the book down. Again, relate it to a movie. I bet every one of you can think of at least one movie where you’ve watched the first 10 minutes and then switched it off because it didn’t grab your attention. It’s the same with a book, however, with a movie the viewer can see and hear the story unfold, but, with a book, you have to get inside the imagination of the reader.
Read through the following excerpt from the first chapter of Nature’s Marc and then I’ll explain more:
At the edge of the forest, the wind gusted in huge waves striking the trees with such impact that they were bending sideways dangerously. As they leaned over, they shuddered until the pressure eased off just enough for them to sway upright, before being hit again and again by the ever-increasing currents.
Within the shadowy forest, the booted foot stepped down, taking care not to slip on the wet grass underneath. The boot showed signs of wear. The boot showed signs of wear; its sides etched with scuff marks. Streaks of dried mud clung stubbornly to its surface, a permanent reminder of the miles trekked through rain-soaked earth. However, the owner moved with a determined stride with no signs of tiredness as he made his way toward his objective.
Overhead, the grey clouds could occasionally be seen between the treetops, which were continuously being lit up from within by lightning, followed almost immediately afterward by loud crashes of thunder that shook the earth, causing even the strongest trees to flinch beneath its strength.
The figure continued to advance through the forest, seemingly oblivious to what was happening around him. He purposefully followed a path between the trees while being careful not to trip over the debris lining the ground.
At the edge of the forest, the full power of the wind billowed in waves across the fields, picking up anything not held down. The wailing grew in howls of varying degrees as the strength increased and decreased.
Thick, heavy curtains of rain swept across the fields causing visibility to constantly change from zero up to more than a field’s length, drenching everything until the wet ground ran with rivers of water.
Storms of this power were rare, and it was hard to believe that anything short of a tornado could be so fierce.
Every ten seconds or so, the entire layer of cloud was lit from within by mighty flashes and, moments later, the air itself shook from the shattering crashes of thunder. As the rumbling finished echoing across the fields, the world was briefly gripped in silence as if someone had suddenly turned the volume down, before abruptly springing back, each time louder than before.
Then, an almighty flash as a brilliant streak of lightning zigzagged its way down to earth, hitting the trunk of a four-hundred-year-old oak tree, and with an explosion, the trunk blew itself apart from the inside. Pieces of burning wood with a streaming trail of fire erupted in every direction, as the remains of the tree burst into a fireball. The thunder assaulted the ears, and a wave of pressure pounded everything, leaving the countryside breathless and in awe of the power being displayed.
One field was fenced off and, in a corner, an old wooden gate swung backward and forwards in the wind, each motion smashing the gate into the rotting timber of the gatepost, wrenching loose slivers of wood with each impact. A sign hung by a single nail stating the gate was to be kept closed, but the wind totally ignored the request as it continued its attack. As the gate swung back for yet another strike at the post, a hand suddenly reached out and stopped it, before pushing it open, allowing the booted figure to move through the gap.
At first glance, the person was engulfed inside a soaking brown coat with an upturned collar. Upon closer examination, the face of a young man aged fifteen or sixteen peered out. His light brown hair whipped this way and that by the wind as he walked through the gap. He kept a hand on the gate and swung around to close it, before securing it with the hanging knotted rope.
Continuing his walk across the field, the young man turned his face to the sky, allowing his face to absorb the full force of the weather. A feeling of happiness and contentment swept through him as he felt the energy all around him. He turned his face upwards and could almost feel the rain not only beating down on him but also being absorbed by his skin, The forest grew as dark and dismal as the intensity of the storm increased. The wind howled through the trees, sweeping up everything before it and causing the animals who called the trees home to take cover and wait it out. Not one creature in its right mind would be out in weather such as this and it seemed like the entire world waited and held its breath.
As he continued his walk across the field, the young man turned his head up to the sky, allowing his face to absorb the full force of the weather. A feeling of happiness and contentment swept through him as he felt the energy all around him. He turned his face upwards and could almost feel the rain not only beating down on him but also being absorbed by his skin, invigorating his energy force. He had been told that his face was a mixture of an angel and a wise man, powerful yet with a sense of peace. He couldn’t see it himself, although he was glad that he never needed to shave like other men. However, the one item that always seemed to draw people to him, even animals, was his eyes. Anyone who met him described his eyes differently, with some saying that they were green, while others said blue. They were also described as intense, as well as kind. Most said when they looked deep into those eyes, they felt at ease and safe, much like arriving home after a long, hard journey.
Even now, with the rain beating down on him, the young man enjoyed the feeling, relishing the moment as the water ran down across his face. He appeared to be totally at peace with the weather and, in fact, to Marc, the outdoors, regardless of the weather was his home. Whereas most people lived in nice warm houses, Marc preferred to travel around the country and sleep under the stars. He seldom rested indoors, usually only if he was invited in by people he knew and never wanted to offend their hospitality. In fact, to everyone who met him, Marc was a mystery and was drawn to him like metal to a magnet. There was just something about him that attracted them which they could never put a finger on. The only thing they knew was they trusted him as if they had known him all of their lives and felt at ease while in his company.
When asked, Marc always avoided talking about himself because people just wouldn’t be able to believe the truth. How could they understand that he never aged, was born from the Earth, and was completely in sync with nature, possessing seemingly magical powers? Marc had never had parents like everyone else, instead, his mother was nature itself. Marc preferred to stay as an unknown, observing everything around him and trying to ensure that nature was allowed to look after itself.
Walking and sometimes sliding across the wet grass, Marc was careful to avoid stepping on any flowers that lay in his path, even though he knew they would recover if accidentally stepped on.
As he made his way across the field, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of berries. He popped them into his mouth one at a time, slowly relishing the pure taste. One had to be careful when eating wild berries, but Marc was a master at knowing which ones were dangerous and which were edible, and boy, did he like berries!
Suddenly stopping in his tracks, he peered around, slightly tilting his head from side to side. For a few moments, he stood as still as a statue, then he became aware of a small warbling noise coming from a hedgerow to his left. How he managed to hear anything through the noise of the storm was a mystery, but Marc had long ago learned to listen ‘through’ the noise, much like gazing through a chain fence and focusing on a distant object, then not even seeing the fence wire anymore.
Searching around his feet, he immediately spotted a mound of feathers heaped up against the base of a bush, and, as he moved closer, he saw that it was a small owl, obviously in serious pain. It writhed about, trying to move away from him into the safety of the branches.
Marc moved forward into a half crouch, coming to a stop on his knees a hands-length from the frightened bird. Unbuttoning the front of his coat, he began to talk to the owl.
“Easy now, old fella,” Marc said, his, voice having a calming effect, and almost at once, the bird stopped struggling as if sensing this stranger posed no danger.
Reaching forward, he gently cupped his hands, and without applying any pressure, he eased his fingers around the bird, being sure not to place any pressure on its wings.
“Let’s see what’s wrong.” His fingers stopped as the bird tried to pull back its left wing, then, when the bird stopped moving, Marc gently eased his fingers over the wing.
“That’s a nasty break you have there. No wonder you’re in so much pain.” He kept his fingers over the broken part of the wing while the bird stayed still as it studied Marc intently. To the casual observer, nothing seemed to be happening, but Marc felt his fingers getting warm and almost glowing from the inside with healing energy.
Both Marc and the owl stayed in the same position for what must have been five minutes before Marc pulled away and sat back, lowering the owl to the ground. The bird sat for another couple of moments and then hesitantly flexed its wings. Finding the pain gone, it then hopped up onto Marc’s hand, spread its wings fully, sprung into the air, and was gone like nothing had ever happened to him.
Marc sat alone, staring at the point in the sky where the owl had disappeared. Quietly he called after the bird, “You’re welcome.” He then pushed himself upright, buttoning his jacket and brushing the dirt off his knees.
Still with me? Great, then let’s look at this excerpt.
I wanted first to set the scene, so I imagined a forest in the middle of a major storm. I’ve never actually been in that situation but seen many movies that contain similar situations so I imagined what it would be like if I was there. It’s kind of scary but at the same time you can feel the energy all around you. As you read these words, I’m pretty sure that your own imagination is seeing the trees being blown around and can almost feel the wind again your face. In this excerpt I’m missed out some paragraphs setting scene even more but hope that where I’ve come in still gives you the idea.
I wanted the reader to feel themselves in that setting and once that’s done, I wanted the main character to make an entrance, as with the ‘booted foot stepping down’. I wanted the boot to appear weather-worn but without painting Marc as a down-and out, so pointed out that the boot moved with a determined stride. As Marc moved through the rain-swept forest, he didn’t want to appear to be bothered by the weather, but rather ‘at one’ with it, which would become obvious as the story unfolded.
I then described Marc in a little more detail, wearing a soaking brown coat with just this face peering out. I also took a sentence to set the scene for his thoughtfulness in a simple way. Imagine this major storm all around you, in a soaking coat with mud clinging to your boot, yet after swinging open the gate he took the time to turn and secure it again with the rope.
I then went back to him being at one with the storm as he turned his face to the sky and enjoyed the full force of the weather. I also enhanced on his facial appearance with an almost mystical quality. I then hinted at his origins with ‘How could they understand that he never aged, was born from the Earth, and was completely in sync with nature, possessing seemingly magical powers?’
He was also very aware of his environment being careful to avoid stepping on flowers and even knowing which berries to eat. I think that all of us can relate to that, which makes the character seem more real. Remember, we’re still setting the character in the readers mind at this point so what they know so far is that he’s a nomadic figure, loves every type of weather, is a mysterious person that clearly has a connection to Nature and that people seem at ease around him. That’s pretty good so far!
I then wanted to bring out the caring side some more so I had him stop and against the sound of the storm, he could still make out the small wabbling sound coming from a hedgerow to his left. Upon investigation, he finds and injured owl. He talks softly to the bird, calming it and lifting it gently towards him. Then, using hos powers, he cures the owl and allows it to fly away. I think that every reader has thought that they would have loved to cure an injured animal when they’re seen one, so again it is something that they can relate to.
I was sure that I wanted to introduce a sense of sarcastic humor in the character, so I finished that section by Marc looking up at the bird which has just flown away and saying, ‘You’re welcome’. I find myself doing the same thing after letting a driver pull out in front of me and they don’t bother to wave thanks, so I normally shout, ‘Thank you!” even though they can’t hear me!
So that was my introduction and I just let my imagination lead me through it. I put myself in that forest and looks around me and described what I was seeing. You can try it for yourself. Imagine yourself in a thick forest with a storm raging overhead. Imagine the trees moving, hear the wind blowing the branches one way and then the other. Imagine leaves billowing allow around you. Continue to look around you, what else do you see? Now start walking slowing. What sounds did you make as you walk? Does the wind hit you just from one direction? What noises are you hearing. Now imagine yourself walking to the edge of the tree line to a wooden gate overlooking a field. You lean on the rain soaked gate and you feel the wind blowing stronger and after a brief stop you open the gate, step through then turn and close the gate behind you before striding off over the sodden grass.
Now isn’t that what my introduction described, yet now you’re walking in that scene, what happens now? Let your imagination play out the scene. How large is the field? Is there a small cottage at the far side, a tractor, or maybe another gate leading back into the forest? You’re in that scene in your imagination, feeling the storm, hearing the sounds, and feeling the rain upon your face. What happens next? Maybe you spot a lone figure watching you? What does the figure do? Does it slide away and if so, do you follow?
Once you immerse yourself in a scene, you’re living it and you describe what you see and feel. Yes, I know that it sounds simple but when your mind is in storytelling mode, the scene will continue to play out.
Another scene could me, imagine yourself walking through a city and you feel that someone is following you. Do you feel curiosity, fear, resentment? Do you keep looking over your shoulder and walk faster to get away. Play that scenario out in your mind. It could be that there’s no one following you, or it could be an evil villain, or, after panicking and eventually being caught, it turns out that its just someone who saw you drop your phone and wanted to return it to you. If you’re like me, when I imagined myself being followed, I could almost feel my heart thumping fast, or feel the relief spreading through me when I was handed my phone back.
I know that when I was younger (OK, a lot younger) I would daydream about being a rock star and how it felt to stand in front of a yelling audience, how it felt to be recognized everywhere and the type of house I would live in…and I bet that you’re now thinking of that scenario too! See, your imagination is limitless.
OK, enough talking. Just don’t force the storytelling and let your mind guide you. In my next excerpt I’ll continue to explain how I came up with the ideas. Now please don’t think that I feel like I’m the writers go-to person. All I’m simply trying to do is explain how I approach things in a very down-to earth way in the hope that new writers can get ideas.
Alan